What Lies in My Past

Sorry that the title sucks. I'll change it later(hopefully). Please both comment and rate, for i do not know whether or not i am going to continue. Whether or not i do will be based on comments and ratings. I'm not very experienced in story writing, so i would love your critic.(Just don't be rude about it). If you don't feel like leaving a real comment, then please don't comment at all. Please do still rate, though!

Chapter 3


I stared at the ceiling fan. It spun around and around, shaking. I could hear the pieces of it sliding against each other. It was a gentle sound, and I didn’t mind it at all. I heard my text tone. After groaning, I reached for the small cell phone on my dresser. I didn’t want to get out of bed that morning.

10:30 a.m.
It was Grace.
“Hi,” I replied. I wondered what she wanted. I mean, she was at the funeral and all, but couldn’t she tell that I needed space?
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I don’t need an intervention, but thanks anyway,” I thought. I didn’t text it, though.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I actually messaged her.
“If you need me, I’m here.”

I placed the phone next to me. I didn’t really want to speak to anyone. Although I could see the good intentions of those around me, they still weren’t helpful to me due to circumstance. They say that I’m not alone, and I was honestly glad that they cared. The truth is, I needed to be alone. Each person goes through loss differently. I needed to learn to cope with it for myself and by myself. After taking one last glance at the ceiling fan in that old house, I closed my eyes.

“Anna, wake up! Wake up!” I heard a voice a say. I opened my eyes and got up to see Jason standing there. I took a step back, ending up falling onto the bed. I slid away from him and shook my head. “This isn’t real. You’re dead,” I said, my voice wavering.

He smiled. I missed that smile. “And yet, I’m here,” he said, holding his hand out. Slowly, I reached for his hand, before all of a sudden, he fell to the ground. “Jason!” I shouted, before abruptly wakening. Slightly paranoid, I checked the floor. He wasn’t there. I had luckily dreamt it. I checked the time. 11:05 glowed on my phone.

I heard a knock on my bedroom door. “Goodbye, Mom,” I said. As if she didn’t hear, she slowly opened the door. She sat down next to me on the bed.

“Is everything okay, honey?” she asked. I nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I didn’t even know what “fine” was anymore. Obviously, I wasn’t okay. After something like that happens, no one is okay. I wanted to say that to her. I wanted to ask her how I could possibly be okay.

I couldn’t remember an okay time, though. I could remember both sorrow and joy, but not that feeling in the middle. I could remember being a little girl in my father’s arms. I could also remember the accident, and the funeral following. I could remember kisses in the rain, but I could also remember Jason leaving. And now, I was experiencing the loss. I couldn’t see okay in any of those memories.

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